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NOT FOR NUTHIN’: Come out, come out, wherever you are

By Joanna P. DelBuono

I live in a black hole. My house is a swirling vortex where anything and everything that is electronic, small, wireless and cordless disappears as soon as its put down. Since moving in some four years ago, we have gone through four remote controls, two cordless telephones, various sets of hot wires, seven pairs of headphones, one cell phone, a car alarm beeper, along with the keys attached, and a tape recorder. Where did they go? Who knows. I suspect that they just had enough and are enjoying their retirement years in a wireless Valhalla. Some items, of course, have been found. My daughter’s cell phone, which had been missing for over a month, was discovered trying to run off in a pair of my husband’s sneakers that were relaxing in the back seat of his Jeep. The old cordless phone unit languished on the desk in the den craftily hiding under the keyboard platform for two weeks. It came up for air, battery exhausted, sputtering and coughing, when I finally got around to dusting the room. One remote was even lost inside the VCR player itself. Finally, last but not least, the newest remote that’s in the living room is not only the cleverest of them all, but the most powerful. This capo di tutti capo, (the head of all heads), RC runs it all, the cable box, the VCR, the TV and the DVD player. It likes to slither through the couch cushion, conveniently landing inside the wood frame. When it’s in hiding, we have to move the entire piece of furniture away from the wall and lift it off the floor to retrieve it. Some are lost forever and have been replaced with newer and more improved models. One such item is the new cordless phone that has a locator key. Even with this feature, it still manages to vanish whenever we receive a call, thereby causing a mad dash to the base unit to hit the speaker key. After the conversation ends the phone appears, sits itself on the coffee table, cool as can be, and rests until another call comes in when it plays the vanishing act again. My house is truly voracious. Not satisfied with what my family provides, it captures small electronics belonging to hapless bystanders. For about six months, after having a window installed, a beeping sound would chirp at various times throughout the day. Whenever it would go off, I would search throughout the area looking for the source. After an exhausting examination inside, I decided to venture into the garden in front of the house. I listened for the beep and followed it. Fighting through the weeds, I finally came upon the offender, a small black cell phone, clinging to a branch on a bush in front of the new window. Apparently, its owner, one of the carpenters, left it there during the installation of the new window and forgot about it. Even though the cell phone had long since been turned off, the internal clock faithfully beeped throughout the day, sending out a desperate SOS. After its capture, I brought it into the house and placed it on the counter, planning to find the number of the contractor to return it. I began my search for the phone book, which also has a habit of disappearing, turning my back on the crafty devil only for a moment. It promptly vanished. Even now, three years later, when it’s really quiet in the house, I can still hear the defiant beep of the culprit challenging me to find it. E-mail “Not for Nuthin’” at [email protected]. All letters become the property of Courier-Life Publications and are subject to publication unless otherwise specified; please include your name, address and daytime telephone number for verification.